Sangre Vital
by Doah
Summary: A horrific vision sends the Winchesters racing to a place from Dean's messy past. A place that Dean has tried hard to forget and would do anything not to return to. But if he doesn't return innocent people will die and if he does... his life will never be the same.


** Prologue: Blood Ritual**

Sound. It was the first thing to register, to reach through the heavy layers of unconsciousness which kept her submerged in darkness. The noise became clearer as she struggled through the thickness, became the whimpering of a child. Allie! She fought harder, climbing from the dark pit.

Another sound. Someone was speaking, a rich female voice, rhythmic, comforting.

As she became more aware she felt a pleasant humid warmth around her, then immediate discomfort. She was suspended by her wrists, her feet dangling, her toes dipping into warm liquid. Blood?! She pried her eyelids apart, her lashes tangling, her vision blurring. Below her was a huge stone basin filled with water, strange markings cut into the vessel. The inner sides and bottom were darkly stained. She twisted her body, eyes searching to locate her sister.

The room in which she found herself was adorned with figurines and artwork of beautiful, full-figured nude women. The Goddess Feminine. Filmy white curtains veiled the surrounding area, separating the stone tub from another section of the room. Through the veils she could see a willowy blond woman holding the babe in her arms.

"Get away from her!" Asher shouted with all the defiance and anger she could muster. She jerked against her restraints, ignoring the painful tug on her rotator cuffs. She kicked her feet. Her toes skimmed the surface of the water sending crazy ripples outward. "Leave her alone!"

The woman turned her face momentarily in Asher's direction, her features blurred by the gauzy material. She returned her attention to Alessandra, laying her on what appeared to be an altar and securing her to it by tying a sash around her stomach.

"No! NO!" Asher screamed, her voice rising with panic and hysteria. She redoubled her efforts to escape but all she managed to do was set herself swinging wildly, turning in elliptical orbits. The ropes that held her wrists over her head bit into her flesh. Where was Dean? At that thought she looked for a door, her eyes flitting around the room.

"Oh, don't worry, my dear. You won't have to watch. I need your offering first." The curtains parted and the woman stepped into Asher's field of vision. She was almost beautiful- almost because her skin was crepey, abraided. Her eyes were eerily colorless. The woman came closer, chanting foreign words in a rich, lovely voice. She gathered the folds of her white tunic from her legs to step into the tub, reaching a hand out to touch Asher's face, tracing the brunette's delicate bone structure. "Exquisite. Inhumanly beautiful." The back of her hand trailed from her neck to her breast, sliding beneath the loose sheath which dangled from Asher's shoulders. Her eyes closed and a look of pure rapture lit her face. "So soft." Her eyes opened leisurely praising the body in front of her. "So perfect."

Asher's chocolate eyes narrowed, her face full of contempt and disdain. "Let me go now," she demanded, enunciating each word.

The creature just smiled sweetly. "Oh," she cooed. She reached up to smooth the creases from Asher's brow. "No scowling. You're much too lovely for such an ugly emotion."

Asher tossed her head back, away from the cool fingers of her captor. She was not going to just hang here and be a victim. She had to do something to save herself and her sister. Or at least stall until Sam and Dean reached them. She knew they would come. Knew they wouldn't stop searching until they found the siblings. And even if they were too late to rescue her, at least Allie would be saved.

But waiting for a prince on a white horse was never her style. Well, it hadn't been since that time she'd first met Dean. She refused to sit in a pile of ashes and wait for anyone- prince or fairy godmother. She'd rescue herself. She drew her legs up, kicking out to topple the evil goddess backward, sending herself spinning like a lop-sided top.

The face which appeared over the basin's rim was a terrifying contortion of hate and fury. The pale eyes blazed wickedly, looking more like a devil than a goddess. She stood slowly, her poise returning to her face, grace in her movements. Her fingers trailed across the gleaming blade of an ornate athame resting on the tub's wide rim. Moving with model perfect ease, she raised the weapon above her head and with a ferocious downward motion sliced through the muscle and sinew of Asher's forearm.

A scream tore from Asher's throat as white-hot pain flashed through her arm. Her eyes left the satisfied smile of the devil to find the burning gash. Blood quickly swelled to fill the jagged cut, spilling over, tickling her as it ran down her arm in warm rivulets. She bit her lip against the pain, tearing her eyes from the sight as nausea rose from her stomach to fill her throat. She closed her eyes momentarily, gathering her wits, clamping down on the panic swamping through her, summoning her strength. She had to act. She couldn't let Allie die.

This time when she kicked out against her attacker, her clumsy attack was easily dodged. The fiery pain struck her again, slashing the other arm. The momentum of the blow set her into motion again, twirling and swinging like a marionette. She jerked violently on the restraints suspending her from the ceiling, forcing herself to ignore the bite of the rope into her tender swollen wrists, the increase in the intensity of the pain rippling through her arms. However, her efforts only managed to increase the flow of blood from her wounds. Crimson color soaked through the white cotton drape, which clothed her, creating funky designs as it wound its way to her feet, gravity aiding it. Blossoms of red swirled in the water as the blood dripped from her toes.

She had to think clearly; had to think over the panic flooding her, over the thump thump of her heart pounding in her ears. She closed her eyes against the triumphant smile of the evil thing in front of her, focusing on prayer, begging her benevolent Heavenly Father to guide her, help her save her sister. Or at least keep the goddess busy until Dean and Sam could save Allie.

Her fingers and arms began to tingle, pins and needles sticking into her nerve endings. So not a good sign. Her arms felt cold, too cold in the warm room. Also not a good sign. It meant she'd already lost a lot of blood. How much? How much more could she lose before she blacked out?

Tightening her abdomen, she raised her legs, pushing into a jack-knife position and further until she was bent in half, toes wriggling and pushing against her restraints, slippery with her blood. If only she could get a good enough grip to slide the ropes from her wrists… Her efforts were futile. Her misguided attempts only bungled against the wounds, increasing the pain until she thought she would faint. With a groan she let her legs fall back into place, released her bottom lip from between her teeth. She had only one hope- Dean. His name ripped from her throat with desperation.

Her head felt strange, fuzzy. She opened her eyes, not aware she'd closed them until that moment. It was like looking through a tunnel, darkness fringing the edges of her vision. The room blurred then became clear only to blur once again. What she saw seemed to have no meaning. There was no comprehension. She felt detached, not part of this room, not part of herself. Her mind seemed disconnected, separated from rational, logical thought, not functioning as a member of her body.

She felt herself moving, not swinging side to side, but lowering. Was it her imagination? Hot liquid surrounded her feet, inched up her legs. It floated the cloth around her body as she found herself sinking into the water. Was it so hot because her body was so cold? She blinked against the emptiness filling her, numbing her body, stealing her mind.

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to regain control, breathing with steady measured breaths, blocking the pain and fuzziness in her head. She needed to concentrate, collect her faculties. She needed to stop being a damsel in distress and save herself, save her baby sister.

Using her restraints she tried to heave herself out of the water, pushing against the stone basin with rubbery foreign toes. There was no strength in her arms, no useful muscles. Her exertions only managed to flop her helplessly against the tub. She was too weak. She'd lost too much blood. She watched as color spread through the water around her. She took a deep breath and again tried to throw herself over the edge, only succeeding in sliding further into the tie-dyed pattern in the water.

Again the strange words came, echoing in her addled mind. The legs of the goddess stepped into the tainted bath. Cupped hands scooped up the liquid, letting it leak out over her neck, her shoulders, her face. One handful followed another.

Dean!" The desperate cry barely squeaked past her lips. Clouds fogged her vision hiding the heinous beauty regimen from her view. She focused what little faculties remained in prayer as the hot water lapped over her shoulders.

Now another fear entered her tortured mind. Would she drown before she lost consciousness? Just when she thought things couldn't get any worse…

"Dean…" Her eyelids were so heavy, too heavy to keep open. She forced them apart, her luxurious lashes clashing to separate. All she managed to see was swirls of color. As the two-ton lids closed she thought she heard a loud explosion. One last thought: was this death?


End file.
